


Sees Thy Blood Warm When Thou Feelst It Cold

by AceQueenKing



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:01:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6404062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/AceQueenKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saren's growing accustomed to some of Nihlus' strange habits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sees Thy Blood Warm When Thou Feelst It Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Velasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velasa/gifts).



Nihlus Kryik likes to kiss.

It's an odd habit, a foreign one. One he's observed Nihlus do several times to the asari Nihlus brings aboard the ship once in a while. Nihlus never seems to tire of kissing his asari as he says goodbye, pressing his mouthplates to their lips.

Saren understands why the asari like to kiss – they have lips, sensitive and quivering. Nihlus doesn't, and he'll never understand why he risks some foreign disease just to press his mouth against – and sometimes, inside – someone else's. Particularly when turian gestures are just as potent a gesture, if not more so, than _swapping spit._ There's a dignity to tracing one's marks, to rubbing one's brow against your own, something not found in kissing.

Nihlus simply shakes his head when he stares at them, muttering about him being a mood killer.

He storms back to his cold room, shaking his head. His love for kissing is part of Nihlus' foreign upbringing, some colonial quirk along the lines of Nihlus' endless love for spiced wines. Odd, but ultimately mostly harmless.

_(That doesn't explain the steel knife he feels sticking in his chest whenever Nihlus looks at the asari girl, but he ignores that feeling and buries it deep.)_

\- - -

The first time Nihlus kisses him, it's...odd.

He's had lovers before Nihlus, of course, but he's never been kissed before. None of his previous lovers lasted long enough to express _affection_ for him. He doesn't expect this to be any different, never expects _Nihlus_ to kiss him like he's a blushing asari maiden.

But then again, Nihlus is _ever_ a surprising creature.

His first clue Nihlus wants him as more than a quick fuck comes when Nihlus presses his warm mouth to Saren's, eyes closed as if he's praying to the spirits. Saren mimics the gesture, fumbling poorly as he presses back with a passion he can only try to feel. He hasn't believed in anything, not for many, many years, but he can believe in Nihlus.   
_  
(Nihlus has always always been excellent at taking advantage of his weaknesses, pulling away at his high-built walls until Nihlus himself is his weakness.)_

He presses closer, unable but trying to match Nihlus' expertise in this strange exchange. Nihlus' tongue presses gently forward as Nihlus' hands cup the back of his neck. Saren consents, lets Nihlus' tongue gently map out his mouth. It isn't particularly pleasurable in itself, but the soft trills Nihlus makes as he grips Saren harder, tighter, are very nice, yes, very nice indeed. His own hands tighten, possessive, clinging to Nihlus' warm body as a refrain beats in his mind.

_(You are mine, you are mine, you are my weakness and_ _you_ _are mine.)_

\- - -

It has been six weeks, two days, seven hours.

Saren paces the floor of his small ship, tries to focus on the upcoming mission, the first he's shared with Nihlus since....since....

There's a knock, quick and loud – the very sound one only Nihlus would dare make on his – and with a soft sigh, he clicks the omni-lock off.

“Hey,” Nihlus says, voice uncharacteristically gentle, as he puts his armor down by the door. He crosses the floor without waiting for permission, and he wants to make a biting comment about that, feels it pulling through his gizzard. Nihlus' talons trace a tender path down his cheek.

“I missed you,” he says, voice gentle. Nihlus' talons tug at his fringe, gently cupping the back of his head in his hands and pulling him forward until their spirits meet, their brows just barely touching, a whisper of intimacy that is as devastating as it is subtle.

_(Nihlus is rarely subtle. He is the sole explosion of light and laughter in Saren's silent world.)_

Saren sucks in a quick breath, tries to ignore the first quivering of belief tightening in his stomach, a belief he believed dead in the ashes of Temple Palaven.

Green eyes look on his, warm and terrible in their tender, caring glance. “Saren...” He says, his voice a bit breathless, and Saren knows what he's going to say, knows it's going to change their universe in terrible, terrible ways that Saren can't quite stand.

So instead Saren pushes forward, clumsily trapping Nihlus mouth with his mouth-plates. Nihlus' hand tightens, pulls him closer. Nihlus gives him a soft, high-pitched whine that is pained with longing and _need_ and other things Saren dare not name.

He's not sure which one of them tumbles backwards or which one starts undressing the other, but he is sure he loses his breastplate before he opens the bedroom door, and that Nihlus has him completely naked by the time he falls to the cot.

Nihlus joins him seconds later, mouth hungry as his hands make short work of tearing black undersuit from dark brown skin.

“Thank the spirits.” Nihlus croons as Saren aids him in pulling the material past his pleasantly thin hips. “I-I didn't think you'd want...” Nihlus looks down, swallows, his sentence trailing as he traces trails down Saren's chest.

Saren simply growls and pushes his mouth-plates against Nihlus', hands occupied with wringing less-coherent sounds from him.

( _You are mine you are my only weakness you are mine.)_

“Saren.” Nihlus breathes into his mouth. “Saren, please. _Please._ ”

Nihlus, always a master at reading him, smashes through all his walls by simply gripping his hips with those dark, callused hands.

“Nihlus,” he breathes, fumbling, shaking hands racing over Nihlus' younger, warmer skin. “ _Nihlus_.”

Nihlus is everything that he is not – hot when he is cold, kind when he is cruel – but none of that seems to matter, not when Nihlus is panting under his fingers, trilling out what Saren what he has always wanted to hear.

( _I am yours I am yours I will not leave I will not break I am yours.)_  
  
\- - - 

Kissing is a foreign gesture.

But Nihlus likes it, so Saren does it anyway.

_(You are mine and I am yours.)_

 

 

 

 


End file.
